Part 18 (1/2)
An hour's sail brought them to a reef of rocks, which was quite a noted locality with the fishermen. The Fawn was anch.o.r.ed in a safe place, and the young fishermen threw over their lines. Better success attended their efforts here, and in three hours they had caught eight dozen fine perch, besides ten handsome rock-cod.
While they were fis.h.i.+ng under the lee of the rocks, they had scarcely noticed that the wind had been steadily increasing, and that it was producing a heavy sea in the bay.
”We shall have a chance to find out what kind of a sea boat the Fawn is,” said Paul, as he weighed the anchor.
”I am glad of it,” replied John.
”The wind is freshening every moment,” said Paul, casting an anxious glance to windward.
”Hope it will blow a gale.”
”I think we shall get more than we want.”
”Not more than I want, at any rate.”
Paul hoisted the jib, and the Fawn rushed out among the white-capped waves; but she walked over them so majestically, that John declared she could weather any gale that ever blew. For a time she breasted the foam of the head sea in a most gallant manner; but the wind came in fearful gusts, increasing in violence every moment till Paul came to the conclusion that it was no longer safe to carry the jib and mainsail, and proposed to set a reefed foresail. John scouted the idea, but he did not want the mainmast blown out of her, and consented to the change.
John took the helm, and Paul, after lowering the jib and mainsail, hoisted the reefed foresail. The boat rode easier then; but as the wind and tide were both against them, it was soon discovered that she made no headway. As the gale steadily increased in fury, Paul would not attempt to carry any more sail, though John insisted that she could bear the jib and a close-reefed mainsail.
It was evident to Paul that, unless he put on more sail, he could not beat up to Bayville against the tide; but it was clearly imprudent to carry any more sail, and for two hours more the Fawn struggled with her hopeless task without making a single mile.
”What are you going to do, Paul?” asked John, impatient, but not terrified by their situation.
”We can't beat up in this sea.”
”I know that.”
”We will run over to Farm Island, and anchor under the lee of the high bluff;” and he headed the Fawn in the direction indicated.
CHAPTER XII.
PAUL SLEEPS ON HIS WATCH.
Farm Island was about two miles distant, and as the Fawn had the wind on the quarter, it required but a short time for her to reach her haven of safety. Under the high bluff on the seaward side of the island, the water was comparatively tranquil; and here Paul anch.o.r.ed.
”We are all right now,” said he, with a feeling of relief, as he took in the foresail.
”When do you suppose we shall get home?” asked John.
”I don't know; we will not borrow any trouble, so long as we are in a place of safety.”
”Mother won't think we are in a place of safety,” added John.
”Yes, she will: I have often told her that when a gale came on, I should always get into a safe place, and keep quiet till it was prudent to run home.”
”It is lucky we are in the Fawn instead of the Blowout.”
”We should not have gone down so far in the old boat. I felt so safe in this craft that I did not mind much about the weather.”